


Don't Let Me Go

by I_am_she



Category: Captain America(Movies)
Genre: George is an asshole, I wouldn't know what to do with those in such a setting tbh, I'm making you king, I'm not touching Bucky's left arm, Little Steve without the ailments though, M/M, Medieval AU, Sarah is an angel, Steve has long hair, Steve is a Disney Princess, but we have to trade you in for curly spun gold ones, lords and ladies, no time to be a drama queen, non serum Steve/winter soldier Bucky, sorry Bucky's long brunette strands, sorry Tony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-04-18 16:37:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14217294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_am_she/pseuds/I_am_she
Summary: Steve's day was as normal as it could get, wiggling out of his carefully picked out dress of the day, annoying Nana Angie to madness, charming his way into the kitchens, and painting his fingers sore.That changed when the guard informed him that five odd men were stationed outside the gates demanding entry.Steve walked out to confront them, it didn't matter that they carried no banners for identification, or that he was in just his stockings and a paint splattered shirt too large on his skinny frame.





	1. I

Steve could make out the distinct sound of pattering feet behind him, he ignored that and kept walking forward, he spied Natasha,the mistress of duty who oftentimes worked the grounds with the guard, half hidden in an alcove, she tilted her head at him, curly red hair shifting with the motion, he ignored her too. Striding determinedly to double doors carelessly thrown open, and he thanked the holy mother for that, for he had not the muscle to wretch them open had they been otherwise shut.

The sun was dimmed considerably, its light soaked into the dark depths of an angry cloud pregnant with rain. Steve squinted up at the ominous sky and wondered if it would rain. His gaze shifted to the guard, who were on high alert considering the possibility of a threat that lurked outside the gates.

"Young Lord!" that was Nana Angie, still inside the house, "come back inside where it's safe," she called a little desperately.

Steve dismissed her with a careless wave of his hand.

"Open the gates!"

Thor, his head of guard, a hulking man with a wide smile, and laughing blue eyes, with hair the colour of straw, looked at him baffled.  
"I am afraid I cannot do what you ask, my Young Lord Steven"

Steve felt all of his ten and three years as Thor stared down at him.  
Steve lifted his chin higher haughtily, a little harder to do while squinting against the sun.

"Open. the. gates" he demanded frostily, "Or do you wish to defy the Lord of the House?"

"Nay my Lord, I would never," Thor claimed as his blue eyes swept over the knights, all prepared for nothing short of war, "but that would comprise the safety of House, surely you know that"

Steve sighed brushed his hair out of his eyes, and compromised

"Then raise it high enough for me to slip through"

Thor face hardened, blue gaze turning icy, mouth pinched in a small white line. But Steve was the most defiant creature ever created and matched Thor look for look as the head of his guard stared him down. And even Thor knew just how useless it was to fight the Young Lord over something.

"Open the gates!" Thor boomed.

"What?" Clint, a man skilled in long range combat; adept with a bow and arrow, asked.

"Yes, Young Steven demands," Thor coughed a little, "excuse me, requests passage"

Steve folded his arms across his tiny chest and got fond smiles and exasperated head shakes for his trouble.

The gate raised just a bit, his tiny form squeezing through easily. Once outside, he couldn't help glancing back suddenly afraid of being outside the gated alone.

Sam, their falconer who joined the guard sometimes, and Clint waved at him from their position perched on the wall, bows at the ready.

Steve felt reassured, took a deep breathe and stared out.

Out across the portcullis that served as bridge over the dry moat, proud on their horses, sat five men in black armour.

Steve steeled himself.


	2. II

"My word!"  
James appreciated the sentiment wholeheartedly, because, yes his eyes weren't deceiving him and his Knights were observing everything as he was.

James ran his fingers through the dark mane at the back of his horse's neck when she whinnied, then rubbed his palm along her neck to soothe her as well as to thank her for her patience. His horse was dark, a colour darker than pitch, and her name was Winter, because the paradox amused him.

He was exhausted to the bone, he and his men have been standing at that particular spot for hours, and they'd ridden out early, hours before the sun had started rising, and they were all hungry, the armour was chafing at James's skin, but it wouldn't do to show it. His Knights required the morale.

"Say, Denier, did you put something you shouldn't have in the venison you gave us last night?"

"I think it has something to do with the heat"

"Perhaps, and whose intelligent idea was it for us to run around in black armour, I wonder?"

James smiled discreetly, obstinately refusing to be drawn into the discussion of the their supposed possible madness. And, yes he had a fondness for the colour black, but that was nobody's business but his own.

"Hallucinations!" 

"A bit farfetched since we're all eying the same thing, is it not?"

"It's everything can't you see? whatever Denier put in the meat, the heat, the hallucinations... and dear Lord he's pretty and golden like an Angel. We died and went to heaven, at least I think so. Are we dead, Bucky?"

" No, Dum Dum, we're not dead, nor are we in heaven," James sighed, he was going to start questioning the sanity of his knights if they were already talking about heaven and dying.

"I was lead to believe that it was overflowing with milk and honey and more gold than anyone would have use for," James glanced around and smiled wryly, "I don't see that here"

"How would you explain that then?" 

Denier nodded toward the subject of their discussion, a bit grumpy at being accused of trying to poison his friends.

The boy? was small, a wee thing that would probably reach at James's shoulder standing upright, his hair wild and long, the colour of the sun, bright and golden like spun gold, and would have been more appropriate on a lady, but James was not judging.

That paired with his eyes, the bluest blue; the colour of the sky at midday when the sun shone brightest, and the fire in those bright blue orbs was not unlike the wildness James had spied in unbroken horses. He looked like an Angel, bright and golden.

He was dressed in just his stockings and an oversized shirt with spots of paint? all over it. James felt his cheeks heat slightly, because that could not be appropriate for anyone anywhere. Especially if he was going to be meeting them.

The wind picked up, and Winter huffed, getting impatient. James murmured praise softly to her for a lesser beast would have been done in by the sheer exhaustion by then.

James's eyes trailed up towards the boy, took in his hair being thrown around in different directions by the wind. Their eyes caught and held, bright blue against stormy gray.   
They were fierce, and clear and dangerous, James realized with lazy shock.

Bright, beautiful, and golden.  
But still...strong, fierce, and clearly obstinate.

An Avenging Angel.


	3. III

Steve would not yield, he was a Lord, ten and three he may be, but he was a Lord in his own right. He maintained eye contact with the eyes the colour of clouds before a downpour boring into his own.

A shiver skated down Steve's spine, and he would swear on the holy mother that it was the wind. Not the terror inspiring men in black armour atop some of the most fearsome beasts Steve has ever encountered. No, not in the least. Their dress was probably tailored to make it so.

The Knight?... Lord?... man?...yes man was as neutral as Steve could get, spurred his creature from hell forward. Steve swallowed and let his eyes stray from stormy gray irises to study the remaining four.

They looked as harmless as four men atop four strong horses bedecked with swords, throwing knives, bows and arrows, and chainmail could be.

The messenger? drew closer and Steve's focus was forcibly drawn to the man. Steve could spy hair a brown so deep it threatened to turn russet, a proud forehead, a straight nose, high cheekbones, a strong chin, and just enough baby fat around his cheeks to make his imposing and extremely handsome visage look adorable. 

The young Lord drew up short when he realized that the messenger? was looking over Steve's shoulder as if he expected someone else to come and meet them. Steve ground his teeth in frustration.

When their eyes met again, Steve let his irritation seep into his expression. It was highly improper for him to be meeting guests with nothing short of a pleasant and welcoming smile, but Steve could care less, and they were of no importance. 

"How may I be of service to you?"

Steve asked as politely as he could allow himself, and fought severely with himself not to cross his arms defensively across his chest.

The man blinked then proceeded to stare, incredulously, if Steve could state his opinion, unabashedly. Steve fought not to feel offended.


	4. IV

James shook his head lightly as if to shrug off the vestiges of a bad dream, because that close, he could see that the lashes framing the bluest eyes he'd ever seen were just a shade darker than the blond hair on his head.

"His Lordship?"

The boy forced a pleasant smile to his face, James took note and wondered what his err had been.

"Her Ladyship is not around, how may I be of service to you?" the boy glanced subtly past him then added, "and your men."

James was hard put not to chuckle at the boldness, and cleared his throat to conceal his mirth, it wouldn't do to offend their future host.

As James got off Winter, he noticed the men wielding bows and arrows at the top of the wall go rigid, and he raised his hands palms forward for he was no threat.

"I seek entry to the House," he said simply.

There was no alternative way to phrase it. It was precisely what it sounded like. The wee lad looked him up and down, from the toe of his riding boots to the crown of his head.

The lad stretched out his arm; palm up and wiggled his long paint stained fingers at James.

"Papers."

"Hi...Her Ladyship is not in, you said?"

"She is not."

"If I'm not too forward, may I ask your age?"

"Yes, you are being too forward, but I will answer your question. I am ten and three."

"Ten and three?"

"Yes. Papers."  
It wasn't quite an order nor was it a mere request, but James handed over the rolled up parchment anyway.

It stung his ego, somewhere ugly and unkind, that his fate was being decided upon by a lad barely out of his crib. He hadn't even broken the seal that bore the Barnes' five pointed star insignia let alone read it.

James swallowed his rising annoyance and resigned himself instead to watching the startling blue eyes skate over the parchment with alarming speed and acute sharpness.

The lad looked up from the papers, his long hair falling into his eyes, but that didn't seem to bother him and he smiled. Brilliant and, since James hadn't been anticipating the reaction, shocking.

"Lord Barnes," the lad greeted formally, James simply inclined his head in acknowledgement, wanting to neither insult nor alleviate the lad's status in his ignorance.

"It would appear to me, that we are cousins, apparently," he waved the parchment in his hand, "only almost fifty times removed." The lad finished with a wry smile, whilst rolling up the parchment again.

James felt the corners of his lips twitch up in response.

James looked on as the lad waved a hand in a come hither motion toward the closed gates.  
A huge man, easily thrice the size of the wee lad came striding out of the now open gates, his straw coloured hair tied in a loose bun at the back of his head.

"I am Steve, by the by," the lad, now newly named Steve said, "Lord Steven Grant Rogers, son and heir of Lady Rogers of the House of Shield."

James bowed, Steve was of a higher status than himself. Propriety asked that of him.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, my Lord"

Steve smiled.


	5. Chapter 5

James would be miserable liar if he said he weren't impressed, severely so. By...well, everything.

Especially the terrifying redhead everyone called Tasha. James wouldn't dare, his head looked perfectly fine perched on his shoulders as it was. She was brusque and scarily efficient.

He could not complain much though. They'd been fed, and their horses tended to.

James walked out from the chambers assigned to him, drawn out by the commotion of likely the arrival of a party. Pietro, the valet assigned to him waved cheerily at him and bid him a good time.

James shook his head at the lad, wondering just how anyone could manage to keep up such a high spirit for extended periods of time.

"Shall I wait up for you, My Lord?"

Pietro inquired, with his head poking around the door so his body was out of sight.  
James gave him a pointed look 

"...um... Bucky?"

James smiled in amusement, watching the white haired boy fidget.

"Try again?" James said, resisting the urge to chuckle.

"Shall I wait up for you, M..Bucky?"

James laughed outright at the sight of Pietro's reddening cheeks, before his attention was caught by yelling below balcony. He leaned over the golden balustrade to search for its source.

"Little Master! Little... ," a redheaded lass called, she grumbled under her breath for a minute before taking off at a run, " Steven Grant Rogers! " She was waving what looked like a caravat or perchance a hair tie over her head. 

James swiveled his head toward the sound of giggling, and saw the heir of the Rogers fortune, the Lord of the House running with wild abandon, golden hair trailing behind him, towards the oak double doors, laughing like a child.

To say James was shocked would be an understatement, Lords were supposed to have a modicum of behavior, certain mannerisms unique to those of a higher status; James certainly had a fair amount.

"Who is faster now, Wanda?"  
Steve crowed.

The red haired lass, newly named Wanda just laughed and followed Steve outside where a joyful screech of "MA!" could be heard.

James frowned in contemplation, as he descended the stairs; polished so clean the wood showed ones reflection.

James couldn't help but notice the inappropriateness of everything. From Steve's dressing, to the way they addressed each other; and that included the Lord of the House and his Lady Mother.

He'd asked Pietro when to expect her Ladyship and he'd said,  
"Oh, Sarah will be arriving later in the day"  
as casually as you please. And then this Little Master issue, he sighed.

He would have to find a way to put up with the outlandish behaviors if he were to live here for an extended period of time.

James adjusted his teal coat and white caravat so they fit snugly, and rounded the corner to the oak doors. At least the 'Little Master' had put on a pair breeches to meet his Lady Mother.

James stood on the threshold, and watched in barely concealed horror as Steve literally climbed up a Lady with Steve's hair, eyes and smile.

James sighed exasperatedly.

Of course he had to be barefoot.


	6. VI

They were in the salon, James couldn't really explain how they'd gotten there. Dinner had been a flurry of activity which featured Steve chattering endlessly barely pausing enough to breathe. And here James was thinking that no one in the world could talk as much as Peter, his squire back home could, he was terrifyingly wrong.

Lady Sarah poured him some wine and James accepted the cup as graciously as he could whilst trying not to be flustered that he'd been handed wine by a lady who, as her social standing stated, could not be bothered to pour her own wine. 

"Drink, James, there is propriety to be had here," Lady Sarah said gently, almost coddling.

James drunk because he really had no choice, and why not? The wine was a pleasantly scarlet hue and had a strangely sweet scent, it promised to flow pleasantly sweet down his throat.

Steve hovered nearby, oddly nervous, shifting in place and wringing his fingers. James looked to Lady Sarah to see if she'd noticed her son's strange behavior and found her already smiling at Steve, eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Come my child," She said, quiet amusement seeping into her words.

Steve all but flung himself into her lap, smiling widely. He laid his head on his Lady mother's shoulder and sighed, "I missed to Mama," 

James took a huge gulp of his wine and looked away, he couldn't help but feel like an intruder, watching Lady Sarah's face melt with what looked like fondness and love.

"I missed you too, my son," a whisper and what sounded like a kiss on the cheek.

It was all lovely, but what James really couldn't get over was the fact that Steve was on his mother's lap. At ten and three! He was tiny for his age, that much was true, but really?

James attention was brought back by the motion of Steve's swinging feet.

"Can I have a sip, Mama?" The lad asked staring at his mother's cup with huge eyes.

"No, Steve, my child, you cannot, we talked about this." Lady Sarah said sternly.

James would be a filthy liar if he said Steve's ensuing pout wasn't adorable.

Steve then launched into another story of how Justice died during labour, but the cot was born successfully and Steve had named it Truth. Not an 'it' Mama, Thor said the cot was male. 

James opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out, her Ladyship sent him a look. One that was distinctly familiar on his own mother's face mostly when he and Rebecca had decided to be a little adventurous and went back home so brimming with stories that they talked over each other, Lady Barnes would just send him a 'let the child speak' look, which usually shut him up and urged him to wait his turn.

The look served its purpose now too, and he clicked his mouth shut. Steve chattered on. He had been courageous today, went outside the gates all by himself, and found himself a new cousin too. He had been brave, right Mama? 

James tried, and failed, not to find the babbling endearing. By the look on Lady Sarah's face, when she looked at James, she knew it too.

Steve ran a hand through his hair and frowned severely at the catch of his hair tie. He tugged at the tie roughly till it fell away.  
James tried not to be jealous of Lady Sarah's fingers disappearing into the golden mass.

"I could cut it for you," Lady Sarah said cautiously, as if unwilling to offend. Steve scowled.

"I want my hair to grow long and pretty like yours," Steve punctuated that declaration with a tug at Lady Sarah's wimple and Steve caught it before it fell away.

"I think yours looks more beautiful," Lady Sarah said cheekily.

James smiled because that had the feel of a perpetual argument.

"No it's not, yours is," Steve lifted a lock of his mother's hair and squinted his eyes at it, "it has a pinkish almost red look to it."

"Like a strawberry?" James' mouth asked with completely no input from his brain. He resisted the urge to strangle himself.

Steve smiled, "Yes exactly!"

Steve hopped down from his mother's lap and held a finger up to halt the words before they fell from Lady Sarah's open mouth.

"Between the two of us," he gestured between his mother and himself, "I'm the artist, which means I know my colours better than you do."

Steve stood with his arms akimbo apparently awaiting an objection. None came and Lady Sarah grinned with a closed mouth. Steve giggled, proud of his victory.

Steve leaned forward to brush a kiss on his mother's cheek and on his way up, he looked at James through those sinfully long lashes and smiled small and soft.

"I'll go tell Nana Angie to put the hot pan in your bed so it's warm when you go to sleep, the nights have been awfully cold of late."

James watched Steve disappear, marvelling at the lad's subtlety and pretending that his heart wasn't doing its best impression of a galloping horse.

Lady Sarah also watched her son go, looking strangely proud and painfully fond before turning to face James.

James put his cup down after draining it.  
It was now his turn.


	7. VII

James yanked on a shirt; yesterday's simply because he couldn't be bothered to rummage through his humongous trunk for a clean one. Pietro was still in the clutches of sleep and James had not the heart to rouse the lad, Pietro couldn't be faulted though; it was common knowledge that nobility treasured their sleep and only began contemplating leaving the comfort of their bedclothes once the sun was already high up in the sky. So his valet had probably expected James to arise much later.

He slipped on his boots and made his way out of his bedchambers hurriedly wanting to catch the knights before the got too far into training. The hallways were deathly silent save for the occasional sounds of a clumsy servant. It was to be expected, no one was up yet.

It was early still; the round disk of the the sun barely visible over the horizon, but the sky was a beautifully chaotic blend of colours. James breathed in deep, and the sharp coldness of the air still heavy with dew stung his nose. This was pleasant, back home there was never a calm moment such as this.

The sounds clanging metal drew Hus attention away from the sun and toward the far side of the manor near the wall. James tried to quell the excitement bubbling in him, he couldn't wait to train with the knights of the House of Shield and shock them to high heaven, show them that when they called him the Winter Knight, they weren't referring to the time of year he was born.

Lord Barnes was a tough man, and by the age of ten and four, James had already been trained and hardened for combat. Riding out with his knights and fighting in the name of his father in petty battles the crown couldn't be bothered to interfere. The result was two years later, James was legendary, older men quaked in their boots when they heard his name. It wasn't what James wanted, but it delighted his father so he let it be.

He got close enough to the group of training knights to see that his own knights had settled well and were interacting nicely with the resident knights. That was good.  
A blur of movement and a flash of red hair brought James' attention back to the actual fight, he saw Natasha swing up Sam's body and clamped her legs around his neck. Sam went down like a sack of potatoes.

He had no time to be baffled though, for James felt a small hand land on his forearm. He turned and Steve was there blinking his huge sky eyes at him.

"Good morrow I hope you slept soundly."

James dipped his head a little in lieu of a greeting, "As well as could be expected," he said and Steve's forehead scrunched in confusion. "Considering I am in a foreign place."

"It is my hope that you will adjust swiftly. My mother's lands are beautiful and the villagers are nice, you will love it here."

James had a moment to wonder at Steve's modesty, surely the lands are his; he was the only heir and he instead referred to them as Lady Sarah's.  
Then he was being dragged away, the pull was more will than actual strength, but he let himself be taken anyway. Steve was intriguing.

They were headed for the stables, James didn't ask. Steve didn't tell. The silence was comfortable.

"Good morrow, little master!"

"Good morrow, Brock, it is a lovely morning"

"Indeed, little master. You're up early."

The stable master emerged from inside a stall where he'd been otherwise concealed. He wasn't a bad looking man, with his impressively broad shoulders and dark hair and dark eyes. 

"You have company," he said eyes raking over James' frame.

"Yes. I had to see Sam get his ass handed to him by Tasha."

Brock tipped his head in Steve's direction and laughed, a surprised kind of sound. He disappeared into another stall.

"I would choose my words wisely if I were conversing with my Lady Mother if I were you."

"I am not particularly fond of being put over the knee, you know."

Brock walked out of the stall, leading Winter by the reigns and handed them to James his fingers lingering for a while even after he'd already passed them over.   
James looked away from Brock's dark eyes and found that Steve had already mounted his horse, a dazzling white beauty that shone in the early sun's glare.

"Let's go, Bucky"

James blinked in surprise, but he still followed Steve out without fanfare, finding that Brock's dark eyes were easier to forget in the face of Steve's sky blue ones.

Suddenly, Steve turned to face him, his cheeks turning a faint pink,  
"My sincerest apologies, I didn't mean to... well I..." Steve stopped and visibly collected himself, "I'm sorry."

James felt the beginnings of a smirk pull at his lips and he looked away, "Whatever for?"

"I talked with your knights and I couldn't help but notice that they referred to you as 'Bucky' but that's no excuse, it sounds incredibly intimate and I apologize for using it without your express permission."

Steve stared at him, his hair bound neatly at his nape not a strand out of place, and James wondered how Wanda made Steve sit still enough for that to happen. "I promise it will not happen again." 

"Well that's a shame," he said as he rubbed a hand along Winter's neck.

"I beg your pardon?" Steve asked bewildered.

"I don't mind," James tilted his head watching Steve's puzzlement in glee.

"Really?" Steve queried skeptically.

"You really think we would be having this conversion if I did?" James asked palming the hilt of his sword. He was pushing his limits hard, but how else was he supposed to know what was acceptable and what wasn't if he didn't?

To his pleasant surprise, Steve cackled, not at all offended. Steve paused for a while, trailed his eyes over James' figure and smiled, "You should let me paint you sometime."

And Steve was off, the white tail of his steed the only visible thing as he disappeared into an alcove, his voice high and clear with challenge, "Try to keep up, Bucky"

Keep up he did, it wasn't so difficult to do so since Steve insisted on gigging the whole way, through narrow passage ways and dank spaces; the whole place was an honestly creepy maze and James would have been hopelessly lost if not for Steve's amusement at apparently nothing.

The meadow was beautiful, the grass was high; thigh length and pretty flowers dotted the place. There was a flat rock right at the centre as if it were a table and Steve was laid out on it.

"I come here when I want to be alone," Steve said his face to the sun.

James doubted Natasha wasn't aware of Steve's meadow, but he got the message Steve was passing; that he could come here and get away if it all became too much. James appreciated it. And he lay down next to Steve.

Steve started pulling at his hair tie as it were the most offending thing he was yet to encounter, James watched him in amusement and pitied Wanda and all her fruitless efforts at keeping Steve neat and decent.

"You know," Steve drawled rolling towards him, "Brock fancies you, he's not as subtle as he likes to think he is."

James conceded the point, it was true after all. He had not anticipated Steve being so upfront about things, but Steve liked to surprise him.

"And neither are you," Steve declared looking at him through wavy tresses of burnished gold. 

James felt heat rush to his cheeks hot and sudden; embarrassed by being called out like that. 

Steve sprang up suddenly, pumping a fist through the air, "I made the Winter Knight blush!"

James grumbled at him, blush increasing twice fold. Steve stuck his tongue out at him and took off laughing like a delighted tot. 

James, not one one to back down from a challenge, tore off after him.


	8. VIII:1

"I'm yet to see Steve since yesternight," Bucky said trying to make his voice even, just a tad bit concerned and not at all as if he were lying.

"Are you absolutely sure, I could do with my baby's company," Sarah said miserably. 

Her skirts swished against the floor as she walked closer, and Bucky could see his chance to save Steve slip through his fingers. Because Sarah would pout and flutter her eyelashes at him, and he would give in. He'd never been good at resisting a pair of pretty blue eyes; Steve's usually but Sarah had the unfair advantage of having given Steve those very same startling blue orbs.  
James sighed in despair as she unleashed her rare but most effective pout and waited apprehensively for her to widen her eyes and....

"My Lady, I'm afraid we have to leave now. If we dally any longer we'll be late." Angie called from the entrance of the carriage, obediently awaiting her Lady Mistress.

"Oh dear!" Sarah exclaimed as he picked up her skirts and ran(it was a graceful speed walk but semantics) to the carriage.

Angie winked at Bucky as she climbed in after Sarah and Bucky exhaled in relief.

"Like the wind, Thomas," Sarah called to the carriage driver from the window, "Oh my, the Queen will be so upset."

"She'll deal," Angie drawled seemingly unconcerned as she dragged Sarah's upper half from outside the window.

"Don't say that, it's treasonous," Sarah smacked Angie on her arm.

The carriage lurched into motion when Thomas was sure everyone was safely inside and no one was in danger of falling through the window and splattering brains allover the cobbled driveway.

"Goodbye, Bucky," Sarah called when they were a good distance away, as if it had just come to her, "Take care of my treacherous baby for me." She sent him a kiss.

"My Lady!" Thomas screamed, more than a little distressed, "Please ensure that all your appendages are inside the safety of the carriage for the duration of this journey."

Fury, Coulson and Hill trotted after the carriage looking unsurprised by Sarah's less than dignified actions and Bucky supposed it was because they were already used to it.

Fury though, Fury turned to look at him and that god awful smirk paired with the leather eye patch over his left eye made for a scary picture and Bucky shuddered involuntarily. He stood and though watched diligently till they were out of sight.

So what if everyone knew he'd hidden Steve. Steve didn't like going to Court. It was required of a man of his status but Steve was different and his peers gave him shit for it; he preferred to keep his hair long, preferred painting to horse riding and his hobbies were indoor activities like reading and drawing rather than hunting and sword fighting. They didn't understand him and often pushed him to sit with the lasses.

Steve was always downhearted when they came from court and it had always been Bucky's job to cheer him up. He didn't mind, of course he didn't, it was just hard to see him that way. Sarah's solution to that was to make Steve face it; Steve couldn't change the societal mindset and neither could she, so in her words, Steve had to have a strong inbuilt resistance against the jibes so it didn't tear him down as easily.

Bucky started walking back into the manor, to Sarah's study to be precise because that's where Steve was. Hiding in plain sight. Tasha spared a look at him when he strode past her and the was gratitude in her eyes as well as a bit of teasing. He would have bumped his shoulder against hers, but three years had only made to add trust and camaraderie into their relationship, and done nothing to the lowkey fear he felt when he looked in her eyes so he didn't.

"Bucky!" Steve exclaimed as soon as the heavy oak doors shut behind him concealing them both in the study.

Steve's voice had become deeper, though no less chipper. Bucky absolutely loved it.

"Yes, Little master?" Bucky answered, his voice only slightly mocking.

Steve went around the desk and put his arms around Bucky, the crown of his head brushing Bucky's chin.

"Thank you, Bucky," Steve whispered.

Bucky put his arms around Steve's shoulders and breathed in the scent of roses in Steve's hair, dropped his chin on Steve's head and relaxed because Steve felt like home.

"You're welcome Stevie."


	9. VIII:2

Steve whimpered softly as Bucky bit lightly on his flushed pink nipples swiftly on their way to turning a healthy ruddy colour from all the attention Bucky was laving on them. Steve's body arched seemingly of its own accord, their chests touched and Steve rubbed his hard member against Bucky's hard flat stomach.

"Please, Bucky, don't make me beg," Steve whispered breathlessly while scratching blunt nails over the broad expanse of Bucky's back as if in retribution for not hastening his pace.

Bucky lowered his head and kissed Steve on the mouth hard. Ruthlessly plunging his tongue in and out Steve's mouth. Fucking Steve's mouth with his tongue as the smaller man moaned and whimpered.

Bucky slid his fingers over Steve's thigh, feeling where the excess of the oil had smeared and Steve hoisted his leg higher; hooked his foot around Bucky's thick waist.   
Bucky laid himself out over Steve, forcing him to take some of his weight as Bucky felt around Steve's entrance, slick and already fingered open just for him. Steve keened high and needy. 

Bucky took hold of his shaft, stroked it to hardness before pressing it against Steve's wet heat with an almost pained groan and Steve's answering moan was most gratifying.

He pulled back and....

×××××****×××××

Bucky woke with a start, his heart beat wildly in his chest as he panted at the ceiling trying to will away the agonizing hardness between his legs. Beside him Steve turned his sleep, murmuring unintelligibly and tucking his nose firmly in the crook of Bucky's neck.

Steve slept. Bucky agonized.

He had to take care of his....problem right away or face a restless night with no sleep whatsoever. The brunette tried to wiggle out of bed slowly without rousing his friend, but lady luck failed him. Steve had always been a light sleeper.

"W'you goin'?" he slurred as the arm he had around Bucky's waist tightened his forearm brushing dangerously close to the tent in Bucky's nightclothes.

Bucky squirmed uncomfortably and thanked Thor's gods that the darkness of the room his his wildly blushing face. His squirming, though unfortunately, inevitably brought Steve's attention to Bucky's predicament. In the worst possible way; Steve's palm brushed over Bucky's erection and his eyes finally popped open.

Steve's hand smoothed over Bucky's nightshirt covered stomach and looked up at Bucky through his lashes. It might have come across as coy if Bucky didn't know better.

"Happens to the best of us," he said softly and then proceeded to mould himself more firmly to the curves of Bucky's body where Bucky had dislodged him while trying to escape, "go to sleep Bucky, you'll need it when my mother arrives tomorrow."

Bucky sighed in despair before arranging himself to try and go back to sleep thanking all the deities that his cock wasn't as hard anymore. He turned just slightly, careful to angle his lower body away from Steve's...everything. 

"S'okay," Steve murmured already half asleep and dragged Bucky closer.

Bucky sank back into the bedclothes and shut his eyes, hoping against hope that the soft press of Steve's warm body against his wouldn't become a problem and tried to do as instructed. Sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

"Bucky," Sarah murmured as she stroked a hand through Bucky's neatly combed hair.  
Bucky poorly concealed a sniffle and hid his face further into Sarah's blossom; he'd never been able to deal normally with kindness.

But how could he tell her? how could he tell anyone? How does one begin to tell the mother of the object of one's interest that one is in love with her son? It was ridiculous, pitiful really. And Sarah may have began to feel the uselessness of her actions for she stood and stretched her arm out to him. He took it, obviously he took it.

"Walk with me," she said kindly as if she knew just what kinds of thoughts were clouding his head.

Out in the breeze Bucky felt like he could  
think more clearly, concentrate on things other that his seemingly desperate love and need for Steve.

The man himself was out to the village in the company of his guard of course, because Christmas was almost onto them and Steve just had to spread the good spirit and give gifts because up until then the shower of snow had been lenient but who was to say it would continue that way? So he had to share his presents now, right Mama?(Of course my son.)

"James," Sarah called and it was the seriousness in her tone rather than the mention of his real name that dragged his attention back to her, "I called on the queen a few days ago, you are aware of this, my baby is aware of this, actually everyone is aware of this... but-" 

Sarah pulled herself from Bucky and sat on one of those intricately carved benches that dotted around the garden, she crossed her hands primly in her lap and visibly pulled herself together. 

"You must be aware Bucky that I am most definitely not informing you of this so that you feel pushed against the wall and neither is it my intention to make you feel propelled to act, " Sarah breathed in deeply, but Bucky could see it in her beautiful blue eyes, the total contradiction to her own words; her desperate desire for him to act, to do something.

Bucky held his tongue despite his bubbling curiosity because he'd never seen Sarah anything but in control and anything that could disconcert Sarah that much was no small matter.

"The king wants proof of the loyalty of the House of Shield," Sarah said coolly and it was years of familiarity that made Bucky audience to the chips in Sarah's amour that screamed absolute terror.

It felt like a slap to the face," He wants..." Bucky chocked on the words, it could not be... but maybe he could be of assistance?

"I could -"  
"No James, you are not of us, it has to be either Steve or myself."

"But...but Stevie can not fight in the name of the king!" Bucky almost yelled in outrage.

"Yes, you are right, he can not."

Bucky gasped as it dawned on him and Sarah turned her face away so it was veiled by a curtain of gold ringlets.  
"No. No." Bucky meant to say but all that came forth was a shocked whisper, "It can't be,"

Bucky fell to his knees his legs too weak with shock to support him and hid his face on Sarah's brocade dress covered lap and wept.

"It is lucky that I have such close associations with the queen, as such the king, at the queen's request, acquiesced to allow me time to search for a person whose allegiance is already proven to give my son to in marriage," and her voice shook on the word.

Bucky raised his tearstained face to look at Sarah figuring it would be at least a decent gentlemanly thing to do not to let Sarah suffer alone, and the sight that greeted him broke his already tattered heart.

Sarah was looking off into the distance her eyes dewy and she was petting his head almost absently, "I have a friend," she stated mechanically, "Lady Carter, the king's cousin, her husband died most unfortunately in service to the previous king, may the Lord rest his soul, she is my most trusted friend, I trust she would not be too averse to helping a friend out."

Her damp eyes came to rest on Bucky again and he could not help the feeling that she wanted him to do something. Anything at all, but what?


End file.
